


What's My Line?

by decemberist91



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Rating May Change, Work In Progress, post episode: The Winds of Winter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-07-18 23:06:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7334347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decemberist91/pseuds/decemberist91
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Petyr and Sansa finally try to see eye-to-eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Duck and I Sway

**Author's Note:**

> My first PxS fic in two years, based off that season six finale.

A declaration of love, he thought, would be, should be, returned. But for Petyr Baelish, he was used to the rejection. 

As the hard steel jabbed him in the belly and carved its mark all the way up to his neck, his eyes went wide. He was not flushed with pain, but more so panic, and as he locked gazes with the girl he loved, he surely knew this would be the end.

His hands gripped at his chest, fingers sprawled over the fresh wound to help stop the bleeding. His clothes were soaking up as the red flowed out of him, under him, over him, drowning him. 

He remembers calling out her name, his body slumping to the dirt. The sun beat down on him, and although a tall, smug figure stood before him, his own blood dripping off the blade, all he saw was her. 

What a sweet death this would be, in the arms of the one you love. But she never came, she let him lie there on ground, bloody and defeated. He closed his eyes as the sound of laughter roared around him, then a scream, then just darkness.

He had sacrificed himself for love, and he promised it would be the last time.

—

The sound of his own voice playing in his head shook him awake. His eyes were wet, and his mouth was dry, but the fire in his chamber kept him warm. He sat up in bed and flung the furs sticking to his body off of him, rubbing his temples as he kept hearing his own voice. His own trail of lies catching up to him.

He promised her he would die for her, give her anything if he could not give her everything. And this was a promise he wanted to fulfill.

He ran his fingers over his scar, as if trying to remember what a fool he had been in the past. He was a much different person than that foolish boy, angry and flooded with feelings, he thought. But not after today.

After today he may as well handed her his dagger in the Godswood and begged for death. They both knew she would be his demise. That idea made him smirk, that would probably make her happy.

That’s all he was again, some fool trying to make some woman happy. Belittled to a stupid man with a big heart. That idea made him laugh out loud as the images of all the destruction he had caused flashed in his mind. But then it just went back to her. Blue eyes, gray furs, fire hair. 

He cursed himself and reached for the cup next to his bed, hoping there was still some wine left in it, but it produced not a drop.

After Jon was declared King in the North, he tried to speak to her alone, but the men were in good spirits, buzzing around their new savior, so instead he returned to his bed chambers and drank enough wine until he didn’t feel a thing, and slumped down onto his mattress. The King of the Ashes, he thought, before lulling off to sleep. But the only thing he could see again was his queen.

He was unsure of what hour it was, but he knew he could no longer sleep. His head was buzzing from the wine, so he got dressed and headed downstairs and into the courtyard of Winterfell, hoping the chill of the air would clear his mind.

He was always two moves ahead of the rest. What had happened to him?

The winds got caught up in the courtyard and whipped around him, blowing his robes up slightly, and the sting of the cold air stopped his mind from ticking. But only for a short moment. The wind was all he heard, a mixture of wolves howling and people screaming - this is just the sound of Winterfell. 

He used to think he was a smart man for thinking ghosts didn’t exist, but now he knew there was no truth to that belief anymore. 

As the air howled he remembered the whispers from the far north, and if they were true, he knew it would be best to head south.

But as the gusts of wind slowed down, and the air held still for a moment, a small flicker of light caught his eye.

He followed the hearty glow up to a top window, and there she stood. Hair down, cascading around her shoulders, the amber glow of a flame warming her entire body, he licked his lips as he locked eyes with her for a brief moment. Then she began to move.

Down the hall, from window to window he saw her flame, a flicker of hope as she made it down the stairs and stood at the edge of the balcony. The wind picked up again and blew her hair up, he swore he had never seen a sight as sweet as this.

She tilted her head up, just briefly and he stepped closer, looking up at her. He half expected an army of men to swarm behind her and draw arrows high into the air to hit him. But he quickly shook the thought as he saw the slightest smirk play a cross her lips.

As soon as he recognized it, her gaze turned ice cold again. She cupped her hand around the small flame of the candle and began to turn, but then she paused and made sure he was to come to her, then walked back down the hall from where she came.

This was his cue, and he couldn’t miss his mark again, so he followed.


	2. Shoot At a Full Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa's POV.

King in the North!

King in the North!

Their swords swayed and their feet stomped in the great hall as Sansa smiled, looking up at her bastard brother.

King in the North!

King in the North!

Queen of the Seven Kingdoms!

She never fancied the idea herself, but laying in bed this night, she couldn’t get rid of the thought. The Iron Throne was not something she ever thirsted after. Most of her time in the Red Keep’s Throne Room was spent being beaten, humiliated, and more so than not, both. 

She looked at the Throne with disdain, hating the man that sat upon it. Joffrey Baratheon, and if she wasn’t including her late ex-husband, contended for the worst person in the world. The quick flash of Ramsay in her mind caused her to scrunch her face, and think of anything else to delude the picture in her mind.

And if she was being honest, if she ever wanted to distract herself, she was very aware of the man that came slinking back into her vision.

Petyr’s words burrowed in her mind. They built a comfy little nest and were now buzzing about her head, not allowing her some real rest, and gods knew she needed it. 

He declared his love for her, but what good was that? Did Joffrey not promise the same to her? She was so naive then, to believe romance was real and her life would play out like some sort of fairy tale she read as a little girl. 

Ramsay promised he would never hurt her, or mistreat her, but yet he arrived every night, his toothy smile peeking through the corners of his mouth like some sort of rabid dog ready to abuse and use her as he wished.

At least the thought of actual rabid dogs still made Sansa smile.

And Petyr too, promised to be her protector. For a good while he had her fooled as well, but the minute he told her of his plans to have her marry a Bolton, her heart shattered. She figured that was silly too, to be falling for a man twice her age who had loved her mother, but ever-so-importantly he loved her now. 

He was the first to help her, get her away from the hell that was King’s Landing. He killed Joffrey for her. He supplied the Vale’s army for her, ultimately allowing for Ramsay’s demise. But was that enough? 

When he leaned in to kiss her earlier she felt herself draw closer to him too. But a kiss was too much. The thought of any human contact made her cringe. So she grabbed the furs of his cloak and rubbed over his heart with her thumb. She could feel its raptorus beating and it made her sigh.

She could feel his warm breath on her face as he swayed with her for a moment. He did not force himself on her. He stood there waiting for her to deliver her lines. But she didn’t act out the scene he had in mind, and she knew for the first time a man was giving her the reigns. Control was all she wanted, and as the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, what couldn’t she control?

A part of her wanted to accept his offer, but she never saw herself fit to be queen. All she ever wanted was to be back home, with the Starks ruling Winterfell yet again.

But she was denied that rule, and as much as it pained her to even think it, she knew it should be her and not her bastard brother.

Petyr requested that she put the past behind her. This wasn’t the first time, and she wondered if he actually felt any remorse at all. But in the Godswood she wondered what to say, but his eyes did the talking so well, and she saw it too. Him on the Iron Throne, a slanted smile, a golden mockingbird on his crown, and her, the wolf at his side.

A pretty picture indeed. 

If that truly was the future she wanted, she would have to move away from the past. At this point, she was getting rather good at putting the past behind her and moving on. Always moving on. 

She rolled over in bed and looked around her room now. Once before it belonged to her parents, and she recalls as a child crawling into their room when she was particularly scared to be wooed back to bed by her mothers calming songs of a bright and sunny day.

Then it became her marriage bed, where she was tortured night after night, bruised and battered and brought to the edge of extinction every evening. She wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment or pride that hid this fact from Jon when he offered her this room. The banners and the furniture may have changed, but the space and the memories it all held did not. 

The quick rapture of memories flashed behind her eyes and she sat upright, as if she could feel all the bruises and cuts and blood reform on her body.

Now the winds just whistled and howled like the wolves across her banners and she could not find any escape from her demons, dead or not, peace of mind was something Sansa did not have. 

So she stretched out of bed and grabbed her robes and a candle and allowed the winds to guide her down the hall.

She felt like she was sleepwalking, just wandering around her childhood home, then thought that she felt more like a ghost than anything. She had felt numb for so long, maybe this was all her life would be.

With Jon named King in the North, what will become of a her? A girl already 18, married twice, both parents dead, and for all she knew all of her reaming siblings dead as well, that is all she will ever be, just another ghost of Winterfell.

She halted at one window overlooking the courtyard when she saw him, walking about the freezing cold. He looked just as lost as she felt.

But for the first time in awhile she finally saw what she wanted, what she needed to survive. 

It would not be easy, or fun, or romantic, like she always planned her life to be. But at least she found someone who wanted it all, and above everything, wanted her.

Her eyes widened at the realization as the wind whipped through her long locks and stuck to her face. The candlelight had caught his eye and when his gaze met hers she felt it like a bolt of lightening through her entire body.

She smiled at the thought for a moment, and wanted to make that pretty picture a reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully I will finish this by the end of the week, and also hope chapter three is just angsty and smut filled and gross and perfect just like these two. (Also! find me on tumblr @huzzah-frib and send me some prompts. If you think I have the chops, I'm down for almost anything.)


	3. It's a Brand New Day

He stayed a few steps behind her until they reached her room. She entered without a word, a glance or even a breath. The whole world was silent for Petyr as he crept in behind her, closing the door.

“Lady Stark, what keeps you awake at such hours?” He lowered his head as she walked over to a table and added her candle to the collection.

“I don’t sleep well, Lord Baelish.” She could see the formalities made his heart sting. “I haven’t been able to sleep well, for, oh, about a year now.” She shot him a glance, as sharp as his dagger and offered him a seat at her small table.

His shoulders swayed as he walked, as they always tended to when he was trying to make his movements bigger. He wasn’t a large man, but not a necessarily small one either. She studied his frame with each stride, how each muscle moved under his robes, hoe his hand always lay atop one another, how his fingers curled just slightly, and the scrutiny made him sweat.

“Well, how can I be of service to you?” He pulled out her chair and she shook her head, so he nodded and took his place in his seat, looking up at her.

He wondered if he ever really studied her face from this angle, and was thankful for the opportunity. For all he knew, these could be his last moments, but he already decided that to die by her side would be such a heavenly way to die.

And by her hands, even better.

Sansa closed her eyes for a brief moment, and Petyr realized how tired she looked. How could she not? After years of running, fighting and surviving, she was bound to look exhausted by age eighteen. He pulled his hands up onto the table and absentmindedly started playing with the rings on his right hand.

“What you said in the Godswood,” Her voice was hushed but serious. She slowly opened her eyes to look right at him. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

His entire body straightened out with the thought of Sansa reconsidering his offer from before.

“And I meant every last word, sweetling.” His eyebrows shot up with sincerity. and for half a second he thought maybe she believed him. She should, after all. Never had he been such a fool. To lay out most, if not all, of his cards out on the table, but they were both fools for thinking it could be any other way. 

—

Sansa began to pace the room, and with every movement his eyes followed her. Her gowns flowed behind her and soon enough he was hypnotized by her sway.

She walked over to the fireplace and began to prod at the dying flames. She wasn’t cold anymore, she actually didn’t feel anything anymore. Mere months ago she would be crying with happiness to see Ramsay devoured by his own beasts, and although a smirk did crawl onto her face, inside she hardly felt a thing.

The numbness began the moment she saw her father’s head chopped off in front of the entire city of King’s Landing, and with each passing day it grew bit by bit. She still felt anxious and sad when she married Tyrion, although gentle as he was, she didn’t want to be trapped in a marriage with a man who she could never love.

On her wedding night she felt panic as Joffrey threatened to rape her, but as she returned to her bedchambers with her drunk husband, the fear faded into apathy.

The thrill sparked into her again when Petyr’s arms reached down off his ship to hoist her up on deck after the Purple Wedding. She remembered feeling her heart pound against her chest as he grasped her shoulders and promised to keep her safe.

The months spent with Petyr were the best she experienced since leaving her home six years ago, and she felt thankful that he reignited a spark of hope in her. It wasn’t soon after he killed Lysa that Sansa predicted that her last hand-maiden may have been right, and that he did indeed have other intentions. But it was the first time in her life she really didn’t mind.

He wasn’t a young, handsome prince who knew how to wield a sword and was promised a house and a future. No, he was a self-made man, nearly twice her age. His graying temples only made him seem older, but she figured it was because he was so wise. He maybe couldn’t win in a duel, but his wits and charms had him ahead of the rest for longer than a decade now.

She found herself actually wanting of his presence, the walks through the garden of the Eyrie, hand in hand as he whispered to her stories of maidens and men and their great downfalls. She would become completely entranced by the words spilling out of his crooked little mouth, she found him endearing and charismatic, and more most importantly, she felt like he was hers.

His mentorship meant the world to her, and as the days drew on, so did their bond. She found it easy to kiss him, and as the frequency of their kisses increased, she often found herself wanting it. They were soft and sweet and sent a jolt right to her heart.

He never pushed or pressed the issue of physical intimacy. He alway asked or acted slowly, always giving her the chance to refuse or move away. She even actually convinced herself that Pety’rs intentions were to marry her and help gain the North back for both of them.

Petyr had restored optimism within her, and as she stood on the mountain staring down at Moat Cailin and heard his plan for her to marry a Bolton, all hope was lost. She figured she wasn’t good enough for Petyr, but she feared the Boltons might do to her was far worse, and she was right.

After their wedding night, Sansa allowed the tiny bit of hope, love, affection and joy she had left in her seep out of the wounds and scars Ramsay created. For the first fortnight she thought Petyr would ride in and save her. But as the nights grew longer, and the winds grew louder she realized no one was going to save her. Not even the man she trusted to keep her safe. 

One night Ramsay came at her drunk, hitting her body, slapping her around, pushing her onto the ground as he grabbed her face. She cried, endless streams of tears rolled down her face and onto the floor, and he just laughed at spat at her pain. He lapped up the tears like a dog as he shoved into her with such force she thought she would break in half. 

With each forceful penetration she felt her body become tenser and tenser. She couldn’t breath and for a moment she actually thought she was dead. She closed her eyes so tight, she began to see white and as she felt Ramsay sloppily finish off onto her naked body, she opened her eyes, but she was not herself anymore. 

The foolish love-sick girl of Winterfell was dead, and after that night she vowed to herself that she would never feel anything again.

When you’re numb, nothing can harm you. 

She did want to kill Ramsay. Although the pang of fear was gone, the ghost of anger remained. She hardly ate or drank at the encampments with Jon and the thought of Ramsay’s dead body at her feet was the only thing that kept her going. She wanted to see her half-brother beat him in battle, but she knew with the lack of men there was no chance.

So she went to Petyr, a man who told her he would die in the abandoned shack, with Brienne at her side. A part of her wanted to watch him die that day. Watch as Brienne sliced his pretty little tunic into pieces, and watch as his crooked little smile fell off his face and into the dirt.

But when he pleaded and begged for her forgiveness she felt the spark again. She kept a straight face and pushed it deep down inside of her. How could the man who gave her away to a rapist still make her body twinge with expectancy? Was it some sort of spell he put her under, or perhaps she was actually affectionate for the man who promised the future she wanted. The future she deserved.

When she told him she never wanted to see him again, she meant it. She was quite used to feeling nothing, and she certainly didn’t want to get her hopes up ever again. She could only achieve her goals by keeping a clear mind and only thinking of them.

Then she paused, and thought if perhaps Petyr felt the same way. If his broken heart all those years ago caused him to feel nothing. So his swift actions to betray anyone and everyone that crossed his path was just a ploy to achieve his dream. He didn’t care for anyone but himself, and he had it all the way here. With an army, and a sigil, and with enough respect and charisma to fool everyone she knew, including herself.

They were the same.

But his words in the Godswood caused her brain to tick, like some sort of strange itch she couldn’t quite satisfy.

She turned around to face him, but found that in her moments of thought he had gotten up from the table and was standing a few feet behind her.

“What’s on your mind?” His voice sounded sincere and stricken with worry. She shook her head in response. Petyr took a few more steps to stand next to her, resting one of his hands on the mantle above the fireplace as the other reached out to toy with a strand of her hair.

She didn’t flinch or reject his actions, she just stood and watched his hands carefully touch her body. When she felt his hand rest on her for a moment she felt the spark again, and she shook it off by taking a step back.

His eyes welled up and she could see the fear of hurting her within him. But she didn’t mind, she actually rather liked it. 

“I don’t trust you.” She finally spoke, a slight tilt to her head. He let both of his hands fall to his sides as he let out a small sigh.

“I know.” His eyes darted along with floor, and she could actually see the wheels turning in his mind. She wished to the gods just for a moment she could hear his thoughts, to be able to get inside his mind. “I made a terrible mistake, one I will regret until my last day.” He shot his eyes up at her and shook his head. “But as I told you before, I will do anything for your forgiveness.”

“You gave me an army.” She said dryly, the words coming out in a cool whisper. Petyr nodded and placed his hands behind his back. 

“I did indeed. But that isn’t enough, is it?” He raised an eyebrow and waited for her response. She shook her head slowly then took a step back.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever trust you, or forgive you.” Her eyes darted across his face, over his lips, at the angle of his jawline, and back at his eyes. His lips parted to speak, but she stopped him. “And then you came to me and told me what you wanted, that you wanted me.”

Petyr stood still as she took step closer to him. Her heart began to race and she smiled at remembering the feeling of happy anticipation. It had been months since the beating of her heart didn’t mean fear, dread and harm.

“Well, you want the Iron Throne, with me at your side.” She inched closer to his face, watched as his eyes followed hers. “But why don’t you ever ask what I want?” Her lips parted as he grew closer, and she could see his eyelids grow heavy as they began to fall closed. 

She heard his breath hitch as it became uneven. He slid his tongue over his lips as she reached out a hand to his chest.

“What is it you want, my love? Name it and it is yours.” He whispered against her as she grew closer and closer, their lips mere centimeters apart.

He exhaled slowly through his nose as he felt her hands slowly reach down to the small leather belt keeping his robes closed. Her hands lingered there and she could feel his body twitch with each of her movements. 

When she reached down for his dagger and pulled it from the small sheath she smiled and his eyes snapped open as she raised the blade under his pointy chin.

At first his look was of pure fear, his face scrunching up, but his body didn’t flinch. He allowed her to move the small blade down from his chin right to the center of his neck. She licked her lips as she watched the small beads of sweat quickly form on his brow. As he began to raise his hands in surrender she placed a small kiss onto his lips then turned around.

She took a few short strides over to he bed and sat down, twisting and twirling his dagger in her hands. She gently touched the tip of blade to test its sharpness and shot him a glare.

The fire reflected into her eyes and set him ablaze as he stood, lips parted, eyes wide.

“Just like you, Petyr,” she paused to let a small smile creep across her lips, “I want everything."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I had to tap into *some of Sansa's emotions before getting into the promised smut-times. So, forgive me, hopefully it's a good enough build & lead with a satisfying conclusion.


	4. Love is the Answer

“You’re going to what?” Jon clenched his fists as he stopped pacing the great hall. She stood before him, hands clasped together as the winds of Winterfell whipped against the windows.

“Jon, if you just stop for one second and listen-“ She offered, and her brother furrowed his brow. His knuckles were growing white with rage and she saw the wolf grow angry within him. She wondered if he’d ever see that in her.

“You’re going to marry Littlefinger?” His voice was loud and rumbling, and she raised her eyebrows to get to him to cool down. He shook his head and a tiny chuckle escaped from his mouth. “Gods, Sansa just a few days ago you were telling me you don’t trust him!”

Sansa nodded and took a few steps closer to Jon. Her eyes were wet with tears, and to him it looked like love, but she knew it was just another move in the Great Game.

“Only a fool would trust Littlefinger.” She repeated her words to him and a smile crept across her pale face.

“So, you’re going to marry him? You want to marry someone you can’t trust?” Jon bit his bottom lip and waited for the reply by idly tapping his fingers over his sword. Sansa nearly laughed at him, he was so predictable, showing every emotion right on his sleeve. 

Sansa raised her shoulders and began walking back and forth. 

“I owe something to Lord Baelish, to, Petyr-“ She stopped to correct herself, calling your husband by his first name was the proper thing to do, wasn’t it? “For saving us, for bringing the Knights of the Vale to help defeat...”

Jon looked down and nodded as realization washed over him.

“And we can pay Littlefinger back!” He shot a look up at her as she halted her movements. “But marriage, Sansa-“

“I think I know a thing or two about marriage by now Jon.” Her mind whirled away to Joffrey, Tyrion, then back to Ramsay. She shuddered instinctively, then tossed the old feelings straight to the floor. She could see the pain in Jon’s eyes. The same pain she saw in Petyr’s back in Moles Town, and again in the Godswood. “But he loves me.” She whispered at the thought of Petyr’s face. 

Jon let out a sigh and closed the gap between them. He reached out and touched her shoulder. She tensed up to his touch, then let out a hefty sigh to relax into his hand. 

“How can you say that he loves you Sansa, when you don’t even trust him?” He shook his head again and looked at the ground. After all these years he still had trouble figuring out the minds of women. Brilliant, complicated things they were indeed.

“He wants to marry me.” She said it with such confidence, that that would be the only evidence he would need. She figured he could piece it together. Although high-born and beautiful, she knew the whispers among the ladies and men of the castle were of her two marriages, and Gods, what could become of it. Rape, torture, escape, murder. Those were the words that described her last marriage. Who would want to marry Sansa Stark now?

“You don’t have to do this,” Jon pleaded, “Know that you don’t have to do this.”

“I want to do this.” Sansa smiled and touched her brothers hand with hers.

“Alright.” He was quite and reserved for a moment before taking a step back and straightening himself up. “Send him in!” Jon called out as the doors to the hall swung open, and in strut Petyr with Davos at his side.

Sansa offered a small smile to her husband to be, who was wearing his all black doublet with the fur trimmed collar. His pants were grey with a silver trim along the hem, and she figured he looked good in such Stark-like coloring. At least he certainly knew how to play the part.

Davos eyed her before looking over at Petyr, a tight-lipped smile growing on his face as he approached. 

Petyr bowed before Jon with an added “Your grace” and grabbed Sansa’s hand to kiss it, calling her “My love” then standing up as straight as an arrow, his hands placed behind his back.

Jon stood stoned-faced facing the soon-to-be-wedded duo. 

“My sister says you want to marry her,” Jon took a step closer, placing his hand over Longclaw. Both Petyr and Sansa noticed the threatening movements as Jon closed the distance between them. “And I really want to know why.” His voice was hushed but stern, and he smiled at the thought of making Petyr unsteady.

“My grace,” Petyr began, the tight smile spreading across his face, “when I saved Lady Sansa-“

“Aye, saved is it?” Jon’s grip on the handle of his sword tightened. “Saved then sold back to the Bolton’s.”

“My biggest mistake, I assure you.” Petyr began to perspire as Jon eyed him up and down. “But surely you must know, I love your sister more than anything-“

“More than Catelyn Stark?” Davos budded in and all eyes turned to him. Petyr shook his head and cleared his throat to retake the spotlight.

“I had much affection for Sansa’s mother, I was a boy, with nothing to my name. Catelyn was my best friend. She cared for me when no one else would. She laughed with me, and loved me when no one else would. She was strong, and caring and her heart was pure. How could a boy not love a woman as great as her?” Petyr’s stood stoically as he mocked the boy standing before him. The one boy Catelyn Stark could never learn to love, no matter how pure her heart was. 

Jon’s eyes moved as he remembered how hated he was by her. How many years he spent trying to win her affections, a boy, with nothing. He often thought she had a heart of stone, but knew she was only acting a certain way which was best for her husband Ned, and their family. He shook the thoughts away and licked his lips. 

“Is that why she let my uncle slice you up?” Jon said with a furrowed brow. His hand slipped off of Longclaw and pointed to Petyr’s chest. “What was it, from-“

“From navel to neck.” Petyr’s smile began to fade before he heard the faint sigh of Sansa beside him. “That day by the river, Catelyn made her choices. And I made mine. I’m no warrior, like you, my grace, but I am a man. A man who cannot choose who he loves.” He shot a glance at Sansa as his eyes danced between her and Jon.

“So why marry her off to Ramsay in the first place then?” Davos spoke as he shook his head. Petyr shot him a glance but his eyes fell back on to Sansa. She stood silently, showing little-to-no emotion as the men discussed her.

“I was unaware of how terrible Ramsay was. I heard very little of him-“

“So you just gave her away? Is that something you do with someone you love?” Jon interrupted him. Petyr shook his head to continue. 

“I thought it was the best action for your sister to retake Winterfell. Her rightful home.” He paused and reached for Sansa’s hand. “I overestimated Stannis’ army,” He shot another glance at Davos, “I underestimated a stranger, which I undoubtably regret every moment of my life. But one thing I did not overestimate was the strength of Sansa Stark.” 

With those words Sansa clasped her fingers around Petyr’s. Their eyes met and they both offered smiles to the men standing before them. Jon stood, dumbfounded by his sisters actions and took a step back.

“I just don’t understand.” He let out in a hushed tone. 

“With marriage comes the added bonus of a secure alliance with the Vale.” Sansa added. “We need as many allies as we can get. You said that yourself, Jon. With winter here-“

“Aye, I know what I said Sansa. But this,” He shook his head again. “I can’t get behind this.” he gestured to their clasped hands and sighed.

“All my life I’ve been letting people make decisions for me. I’m a woman now, Jon. Not a girl. It’s time to make my own decisions. To live my life how I want to live it.” She offered, taking a step forward and freeing her hand from Petyr’s. 

They stood in silence for a moment as Jon surveyed the couple before him. He exhaled, causing his nostrils to flare in frustration. He began to slowly shake his head.

“I cannot say I approve of this marriage.” Jon paused. “I only want the best for you.” He locked eyes with his sister and smiled. “This can’t be it.”

“I’ve made my decision Jon. I’m going to marry Petyr tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow night!” Jon’s voice boomed through the hall. Sansa’s eyes widened at the sound but tried to speak again before Jon interrupted her. “Very clever! You know I leave later today for the south, to rally more troops.”

“I know.” She said cooly. “Best I tell you now, then.”

“Oh, so this is it?” Jon shook his head again and began to laugh. “You’re making a huge mistake Sansa. I can’t allow this.”

Sansa smile faded as he heard yet another man tell her what she can and cannot do.

“You don’t have to allow it Jon. I’m marrying him.”

“Are you defying the King in the North?” Davos interrupted and Jon shot him a look that caused him to take a step back.

“He’s my brother.” Sansa said dryly. 

“Half-brother” Petyr offered and all eyes looked at him.

“I could kill you right now little man!” Jon took a thunderous step closer to Petyr but Sansa stepped forward to block him.

“Jon!” She exclaimed as she raised her hand to stop him from getting closer. Jon let out a heavy breath as Petyr stood behind Sansa without flinching. 

Jon’s eyes widened, welling with tears of anger and frustration as he looked at his sister. She remained calm as his heart beat furiously in his chest. 

“I am going to marry him.” She spoke sternly as she began to lightly push Jon away.

Jon let out one more sigh before retreating back. His shoulders slumped down in defeat.

“So that’s it then? That’s the decision you’ve made?” He asked, his eyes darting across the floor.

“It is my decision to make, Jon.” She took a step closer and placed her hand on his shoulder but he pushed it off, shaking his head.

“Well, you have watch over Winterfell while I’m gone. And I guess when I return you’ll be Lady Baelish.” He shot a cold glance over at Petyr, who was now smiling his crooked little smile. 

“No.” Sansa shook her head as Jon turned to walk away. “I will always be Sansa Stark.”

Jon stopped and looked at her over his shoulder. A very slight smirk flickered across his face for a second before turning away again. 

“I’m sorry I’ll miss the ceremony. Seven blessings to you on your wedding day.” With that, Jon pushed the doors of the hall open and exited. Davos bowed towards Sansa and followed his king. 

Sansa could feel her heart drop into her stomach. She wasn’t expecting for her marriage proposal to be welcomed by her brother, nay, half-brother, with open-arms. But she figured he would at least understand with the given circumstances. Since he was King in the North, surely he would be able to see the importance of the alliance between them and the Vale.

Behind her she heard his faint footsteps approach her as he stepped up close behind her. Petyr raised his hand to brush her hair behind her back, and he used the backs of his fingers to stroke her cheek. 

“My love,” he spoke gently. “Your motives confused him. He doesn’t care for my alliances. He doesn’t need me. He doesn’t want me. You do. He doesn’t believe that I love you.”

“But you do.” Her eyes fluttered closed as his thumb brushed under her chin and he leaned in to lay a soft kiss on her neck.

“More than anything.” He offered as he moved his body to be in front of her. “Tomorrow we will wed, and with Jon gone we can finally get things done.”

She nodded as his touch trailed down her arms and clasped around her hands. 

“Tomorrow,” her voice was faint as she leaned in to kiss him. “You will be mine, and I will be yours.”

—

 

The snow surrounding her was thick, nearly up to her ankles. She was happy she decided on her tall boots to keep her feet warm and dry. Petyr suggested they host the ceremony at sun down, and as orange and red flooded the sky, she was happy he did so. The Godswood was serene, and only a faint whistle of wind could be heard through the trees.

She came early to reflect and think. Recalling of the last time she was married here. Theon gave her away as she wore all white, sick to her stomach with nerves. Now she was dressed in all black. An outfit she made for herself just for her special day. It was a long black gown that had a certain glimmer to it, it almost sparkled in the reflection of the bright snow.

Around the edges was a thick grey fur, and a gold threading. On her chest was the Stark dire wolf, large and proud, and stitched into his mouth was a small bird. Not dead or injured, just trapped in the jaws of the beast. She traced the outline with her fingers and smiled.

“Our new family sigil perhaps?” Peter’s voice alerted Sansa as her eyes shot up from her chest. He walked slowly towards her, just like the day he professed his love and alliance to her. His outfit mirrored hers, this time he wore a thick grey fur around his shoulders like a true Northerner. 

She shook her head as their eyes met, and she couldn’t help the smile forming on her lips. When he got close enough he grabbed her hand and placed a faint kiss on her knuckles before his eyes trailed up to the embroidered design.

“Glad to see my wife has a sense of humor, although a dark one.”

“Just like yours.” Her voice was quite as a rosy hue hinted at her face. “I spent days on it.”

“That poor little bird.” Petyr said as he slowly drew his hand up to dance his fingers across the stitching of the two animals.

“That poor little bird indeed.” Sansa reached up as Petyr’s hand flattened and sprawled over her heart.

“Is this what you want, sweetling?” He stood up tall and whispered in to her ear. She nodded and placed both of her hands on his chest. She leaned in and kissed him, her lips cold and wet. He smelled good, like he always did. Fresh with mint and clove. His kisses were hinted with spice and as he pulled away she licked her lips to taste him again.

When she opened her eyes she just saw him grinning back at her. A rare site, to see Petyr with a full, toothy smile on his face. She couldn’t help but to smile back at him.

“When I was girl,” She began to speak as Petyr moved his hands over to play with the hair resting on her shoulders. “I dreamt of marrying a young, handsome prince. And we’d move somewhere warm, somewhere far away from here and I’d never have to see any of my family ever again.” She paused and bit her lip as she noticed Petyr’s beaming smile fade into a slight smirk. “I dreamt that I would have several beautiful children, and live by the sea with them and grow old as my valiant husband defeated our enemies and lavished me with gifts.” She threw her head back and smiled widely.

“I dreamt that I would only wear the finest gowns and be drowning in jewelry. That every man would love me and every woman would want to be me.” A chuckle escaped her as she shook her head.

“You were a child.” Petyr offered as he began to rub his gloved hands on her shoulders. “We all dream of such things as children. But as soon as we realize they’re just that, just dreams, we can grow and begin living in the real world, Sansa,” he paused to kiss her lightly on the cheek.

“I was so selfish. So vain! Could you imagine...” Her words trailed off as she got lost in thought again.

“You had every right to be-“ Petyr dropped his hands to his sides and looked behind him to a stout, older man approaching. “I thought you wanted everything, my love, but if gowns and jewelry will suffice I think this marriage will be a lot easier than planned.”

She playfully slapped his chest and let out a tiny giggle.

“Can you also get that handsome young prince then?” She raised his eyebrow as she tried to hide her smile, but failed miserably. 

“Anything for you my sweet.” He smiled back at her as the man grew closer. “But looks like I’ll have to do for now.”

No one other than Sansa, Petyr and the Septon were present for the ceremony, and she was quite relieved for it as well. She was sick of all the eyes on her. Sick of all the people watching who no longer knew her, or cared to know her. She was content in that moment in the Godswood, alone with Petyr and the Septon who officiated their vows. 

Her first wedding was closer to what she wanted growing up. In front of everyone in King’s Landing, followed by a large feast with music and dancing. She was threatened to be raped by her ex-betrothed, and her husband passed out drunk before anything could happen. Her second wedding was something out of a nightmare. Dark and gloomy, lit by torch-light just as the old Gods wanted. And then she was indeed beaten and bathed in her own blood. But her third wedding was short and sweet and calm right as the sun went down. She hoped the third time would be a charm, and tonight would be easier for her. She knew it would be.

Petyr declared his vows proudly, as if he had been practicing all day. And although Sansa stammered a bit through the last part she never felt nervous, or sick. She didn’t feel numb or apathetic either. She felt a tiny spark ignite in the pit of her. And when Petyr moved in to kiss her, to officiate the words they had promised, she felt the spark ignite into a flame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm terrible. BUT HEY they're married now, and we all know what happens on wedding nights, am I right?


	5. Adrift on the Sea

They walked arm-in-arm down the corridors of Winterfell. The entire castle was silent, and she wondered were everyone could be. It was true that she was keeping her marriage to Petyr a secret from the people, her people, but she figured word would slip and there would be someone back at the castle to congratulate her.

Maybe the people only cared for Jon after all, and she was quick to think of ways to make that change. He was gone now, for a number of weeks, and in that time her and her new husband were to be in total control.

Petyr led her down a winding corridor to a room she didn’t recognize. It wasn’t hers, or her parents so it must be his.

“I know weddings are followed by great feasts, but since your half-brother and Ser Davos are the only ones aware, I had to work with what we had” Petyr emphasized the ‘we’ as he placed his hand at the small of Sansa’s back as he led her into his room. 

It was a bit smaller than the one she was currently in, but none the less lavish. He had a large bed with various furs on top of it, a large round table stocked high with meats and more lemon cakes than Sansa could count. She felt her belly rumble at the sight of the fruits and desserts laid out for her. 

To the side a fire roared in the heath, tall and short candles were scattered around the room, which was decorated with flowers of deep burgundy and purple.

“Where did you get all this?” She paused right before the table. “The cakes, and the flowers?” She picked up a rose and brought it to her face, inhaling the scent deeply. The scent reminded her of Margery and she smiled.

“Where doesn’t matter, but does it please you?” He walked over to the table and pulled out her chair, offering her a seat. She smiled and nodded and placed the rose back onto the table as she sat down.

Petyr walked over to the pile of lemon cakes and filled a plate with petite desserts. He presented them to Sansa with a full toothy smile. She couldn’t break the grin across her face as she bit into one of the tangy cakes and sighed at the decadent taste.

“This pleases me very much.” She said mumbled in between bites. She placed the remainder of the snack on the table and looked at her husband. “This was very sweet of you.” Her voice was hushed but sincere.

Petyr nodded and grabbed to goblets and placed them in front of them. He reached for a large vat of wine and began pouring. He picked up the glasses, handed one to Sansa and raised it to toast.

“I want you to know that with me, Sansa, you can have anything you want. Anything at all. For you are mine, and I am very much yours.” He paused so they could clink glasses and take a sip. He placed the cup down onto the table and leaned over to grab one of her cakes. “And I mean yours, in every way.” His eyes narrowed as the fire reflected in it and she could see the hunger for her grow. A hunger lemon cakes could not satisfy.

“Good.” She said simply before reclining back in her seat. She clasped her hands right under her chest and sighed. She eyed Petyr for a moment and watched as he grew uninterested in the cake and went to grab an apple from the pile of fruits. He licked his lips before taking a large bite of the fruit, and a small stream of juice ran down his chin. The image made Sansa quiver and lick her own lips in anticipation.

“If I tell you I don’t want anything to happen tonight, will that make you angry?” Sansa said as she reached to pick at another piece of cake. Petyr’s eyes widened briefly as he smiled and lowered the red fruit from his mouth.

“No, my love.” He took another bite and placed it on the table. He chewed slowly and she saw his tongue graze his teeth underneath his lip. The wolf inside her began to growl. “Just being with you again makes me happier than I ever have been.” She saw the sincerity in his eyes and it made her smile. Perhaps Petyr was no prince but the feelings he had for her were like none other she had known before.

Sansa stood up and walked over to the fire to stare at it for a moment. She felt Petyr’s eyes on her, but it didn’t bother her. She looked over her shoulder briefly as he bit further into the apple, leaving nothing but core and rind. His eyes lit up as he stood and walked over to her.

She turned to him and smiled, the fire igniting a glowing halo around her frame.

“Take off your clothes.” She said sternly, trying to hide the smile that formed with her demanding voice. The rush of being in control made her very happy indeed.

Petyr’s eyes narrowed as he slowly raised his hands to unhook the mockingbird pin clasped to keep his large fur in place. It hit the ground with a hushed thud and he gently moved it to the side with his foot. He placed his pin on the mantel behind her, and leaned in close to Sansa, but did not touch her. He took a step back again as his fingers danced to the top of his doublet, unbuttoning each clasp that kept the garment closed. 

He shimmed his shoulders to relieve himself of the long black cloak leaving him only in a black laced undershirt and his black pants. He swallowed as he began to untie the strings at his chest. His eyes shot down as his infamous scar was slowly reveled at the top of his collarbone. Sansa always wanted to see it, and now was finally her time.

She saw his eyes fill with worry as his fingers faltered with the strings. Sansa took a step closer and pushed his hands away, feeling his heart rumble in his chest. She smiled at him, remaining calm as his body trembled at her touch.

“It’s okay,” she cooed and finished pulling the strings to his shirt. Her hands moved south and reached the hem of his shirt and slowly began to pull up, she signaled with her eyes for Petyr to raise his arms, and he obeyed. When the garment was finally off his body she stared at his chest as she discarded the shirt to the floor.

He was pale and thin, with a very fine line of muscular tone to his body. A patch of dark grey hair sprawled over his chest and traced a line down to his belly button. But more noticeable was the scar. It was deeper than she imagined, and at certain parts caused his skin to cave in more.

“An ugly sight.” He said softly as he grabbed her wrist that began tracing it gently. She shook her head as she slowly leaned in to kiss the top of his scar.

“The things we do for love.” Her eyes shot up at him as he shivered from her lips leaving his body. She softly and slowly traced the scar down with her finger and stopped right were it ended. She paused, licked her lips then hooked the same finger in the waistband of his pants. “These too.” She said as she took a step back and watched him.

He nodded and kept his eyes locked on hers. He bent down and unlaced his boots, pulling each off and throwing them into the pile of discarded clothes. His fingers made fast work of his bottoms, and as she eyed him up and down she could see him growing, quite literally. 

Petyr slowly undid his pants, pulling each string and an excruciatingly slow pace. Sansa bit her lower lip without even realizing and the reaction made him smile.

When all the strings fell straight he reached down and slowly peeled the garment down, revealing his naked body underneath. His half-erection caught Sansa’s eye first, but as she felt the blush rise within her, her eyes moved to his.

“I’m a bit nervous.” he offered in a small voice, but he exhaled with confidence as he stood completely nude before her. 

She nodded and took a step closer to him and his eyes fluttered closed as he could feel the heat in the room rising.

He drew his hands up and began playing with the multiple rings on his fingers. He tilted his head, and his smile along with it.

She got closer to him and she could feel her heart begin to beat faster and faster. She leaned into his ear and licked the lobe, whispering a command to undress her. He nodded and slowly walked behind her.

His hands slowly reached up to her shoulders as he pulled away the first layer of furs, adding them to the heap of discarded attire. His hands then reached for her hair, wrapping it all up and placing it in front of her left shoulder. She shivered as his fingers traced a gentle line down her neck and then to her back, where he started making delicate work of untying the laces.

As each lace became undone, Sansa too felt her guard dropping. She evened her breath and prayed to the gods she didn’t seem half as nervous as she already was. 

As the ties were all undone Petyr slowly slid the dress from her, gliding his hands over her shoulders, down her arms and finally wrapped them around her waist. The only thing separating their skin was the thin underclothes Sansa was wearing. She could feel that his erection had only grown, and was now firmly pressed up against his stomach, and against the back of her bottom.

His hands clasped around her as he drew her near and he took in a deep breath, relishing in her sweet scent. 

“I love you.” He whispered into her ear as he began to trail kisses starting from her cheek and down her neck to her shoulders. She closed her eyes and enjoyed his lips on her skin before reaching down and pulling his arms off her body. 

“Stop.” She demanded quietly and almost immediately he drew his head up and dropped his arms. He began to speak but she turned around to press a finger to his lips while shaking her head. “You’re not done.” She smiled and looked down at her underclothes still clinging to her body.

He nodded and slowly moved his hands up to her shoulders again, pushing the material down. It slipped down her frame with ease and as it reached her waist Sansa shimmied a bit for it to reach the floor. They both chuckled at her movements but once Sansa caught Petyr’s eyes she swallowed with fear.

Although certainly no longer a maiden, she couldn’t help but feel fear of being naked in front of a man, even if it was her husband, and Petyr, a man she was growing more fond of with each day. His eyes were larger than normal, and he absentmindedly licked his lips and as his pupils widened as his gaze wandered around her naked frame. 

He moved his hands slowly down her arms before taking her hands in his. He leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips. Her eyes fluttered closed as he pulled back a mere centimeter from her face.

“You’re more beautiful than I could’ve imagined.” He smiled as her face became tinted with rose. She could smell his minty breath and feel it hot on her skin. She took a step back, but kept their hands intertwined.

They stood in silence for a moment, only staring at one another before Sansa took in a deep breath and dropped Petyr’s hands to walk over to the bed.

Sansa sat down slowly at the edge of the bed, the furs soft against her naked body. She felt like her skin buzz as she tried to even the breaths spurting out of her nostrils. She placed her two palms flat behind her and leaned back a bit, offering Petyr a full feast of sight.

He went to take a step closer and she shook her head, stopping him dead in his tracks. If she looked hard enough she could see his body twitch with excitement, and felt proud she could finally feel totally in control over someone. She thought back to her discussions in the gardens of King’s Landing. How the thing between her legs could be used as a great weapon. But she didn’t want to hurt Petyr. Not if she didn’t have to.

She took in a deep breath and rolled her neck, stretching the muscles to rid some of the tension building inside her. Peter’s breaths were becoming deeper and his chest rose more noticeably with each passing second.

“I want to see what a brothelkeep can do to a woman. You’re an expert, aren’t you?” She raised an eyebrow and Petyr couldn’t help but make wide strides towards her. He stood a foot away before large grins spanned both of their faces. Petyr pursed his lips as he looked at her carefully, his eyes wandering over every single inch of her body.

He inched forward so his stomach was level with her face and Sansa felt her body tense as he grew closer. His erection was full now, standing proudly against his belly and she could feel her heart beat grow faster and faster as he approached. He placed one hand on her shoulder and used his other hand to bring to fingers underneath her chin, moving it up so their eyes could meet.

“Sansa,” His voice was soft and she feel her eyes getting wet, along with certain other parts of her. She leaned in and kissed the bottom of his scar, just an inch above his member and began sucking at the skin there. She leaned up off the bed and began to trail quick wet kisses up his scar towards his neck. When she reached his collarbone she nipped at with her teeth and Petyr let out a loud moan.

He repeated her name as he took both of his hands and pushed her back to be sitting on the bed. She looked up at him in confusion but he shook his head. He pointed to the pile of pillows near the headboard and she nodded and crawled backwards towards them. 

Petyr stood watching her as her head hit the downy pillows and she motioned with her head for him to join her. He licked his lips and moved his hand down to his cock, stroking it a few times.

Sansa figured moments like this would be awkward and unnecessary, but the sight of him touching himself drove her wild. She felt a pinch of heat well up at the core of her as she let out a few ragged breaths. Petyr smiled at this and freed himself. He kneeled down on to the edge of the bed and then began to slowly crawl towards her.

The thin muscles in his back moved with such elegance as he quickly moved towards her, like some large cat about to devour it’s prey. Sansa quivered when Petyr finally reached her, his body hovering over hers. He leaned down and kissed her hungrily, his tongue entering her mouth, dancing with hers. 

His hands reached for hers as their bodies fell flush against each other's. She could feel every inch of his skin on hers, and it felt so good she could cry. He moved his body slowly up and down hers, grinding their bodies together. His left hand released hers and danced against her skin, his fingers traced a line from her neck to her breast, taking her hardened nipple between his two fingers and began to roll it gently. 

He broke the kiss to begin pecking at the soft flesh of her throat with his lips. His teeth followed with soft nips and grazes of flesh before he reached her chest and sucked in the aroused nub. Sansa drew in a sharp breath as he moved from one nipple to other, paying equal attention to both with mouth and hand. 

His mouth moved down her body to her navel, where he lapped at her skin, devouring every inch of her with his mouth, tasting the sweet sweat beading on her body, and he groaned as the smell of their arousal filled his nostrils. 

He finally let go of her right hand to push himself up on one arm, and she sighed as she felt his mouth leave her body right before he headed any further south. He moved his head back to be level with hers and she blinked at him.

“What is it?” She questioned why he stopped and he shook his head. He kissed her again on the cheek, then at the corner of her mouth before he raised his left hand and traced her lips with his fingers. He slowly and steadily pushed his pointer and middle fingers inside of her mouth, and she allowed his digits to enter her. She licked at them and began to suck, closing her eyes in the process.

“Sansa,” His voice was more rugged than before and she could hear the desire dripping off every letter of her name. “Open your eyes. Look at me.” He slowly drew his fingers out of her mouth and she opened her eyes to find him staring directly at her. “Watch me.” He demanded and she shook her head obediently. 

Her eyes followed his fingers as they slowly made her way down her body. They stopped and hovered over her curls before Petyr pushed her wet folds aside and began to draw slight circles around her clit.

Sansa took in several heavy breaths before she found her hands grasping at Petyr’s arms, her fingers creating a shadow of white on his flesh. Petyr leaned down and began kissing her neck, soft moans escaping his lips as he applied more and more pressure to her.

She felt her body begin to tense, a combination of heat and moisture well up inside of her. She felt like she was shivering but was boiling hot. Her eyes fluttered closed and Petyr stopped kissing her, but his fingers stayed at the steady pace.

“Look at me.” He said and her eyes snapped open and back at him. His pupils were wide and dark and she could see them cloud with pure lust. “This is me doing this to you. Do you like it?” 

Sansa sucked in her bottom lip and tried to speak, but words could not form in her mouth. She quickly shook her head as a rumble of heat formed within her. She looked down at his fingers moving vigorously, then back up at him, his eyes serious as small huffs of hot breath left his mouth.

He leaned down and placed open-mouth kisses against her neck, leaving hefty breaths against her hot, sticky flesh. Sansa couldn’t help but shut her eyes as a wave of pleasure rose from her toes and washed over her entire being, she let out a quite yet forceful yelp as the waves rode through her and she could feel every nerve of her body tense, then burst with the purest and most satisfying release she had ever known. 

Her hands gripped at the flesh of his back, grabbing on to ride out as her body moved beneath him against her control. Her legs stretched out under him, and her toes curled as a throaty moan escaped her lips, a noise she never knew she could make.

She tried to steady her breath as she slowly opened her eyes to find Petyr smiling against her skin as he nuzzled the crook of her neck with his nose. She couldn’t think of words or emotions, only that the sensation ringing from her body was warm and welcoming and as she ran her hands up and down Petyr’s back, she hungered for more.


	6. I could take you to heaven

Sansa awoke with a thin beam of daybreak on her skin. There was no real sun, winter was here and staying, but the snow reflected in the sky and made it even more bright. Her hair was a tangled mane around her naked frame, sprawled out amongst the furs of her bed. Their bed. She shot up and looked around the empty room, finding no sight of Petyr. 

The feast from last night was cleared, their heaps of clothing put away, and a new outfit was laid out for her on this new day. She took notice of a small plate resting on the nightstand, a small folded card with a lemon cake next to. She picked up the note and read the small scribble she had become familiar to.

_Business calls. Love, Petyr._

She smiled and put the note back, picking at the lemon cake, devouring it in three quick bites. She was surprised at how hungry she was, also incredibly pleased that she slept the entire night through. It had been nearly a year since she remembers getting a good nights sleep. Last, she remembered, was when she was with Petyr.

Her brain flickered to the nights they spent on the road back to the north. Stolen moments in carriages, inns and taverns where Petyr would play with her hands. She enjoyed removing his rings and trying them on, they both would smile as she pretended to be a child playing dress up, but Sansa was truly always impressed with the Mockingbird's wardrobe choices. 

One night after dinner, Sansa slid herself next to Petyr and he began to draw small circles on her thigh. She was certain he was writing secret messages in code, messages made only for her, that only she would understand. Each night he would walk her to her room, his fingers intertwined with hers, and place a small, soft kiss on her lips.

It was such a quick action, he was already gone wishing her a good morrow before she even had a chance to further the gesture. She smiles now, remembering how many nights she would snuggle up in strange beds thinking that one night Petyr would join her.

But instead her dreams were dashed, and she was traded to the Bolton bastard. Every night spent crying, wincing in pain, suffering and wishing for an end. She pushed those thoughts out of her mind with a moment of silence and thought only of the here and the now.

Last night, she remembered, her wishes came true. Her skin began to tingle as she recalled the previous night, and she felt the warmth grow inside her again. It was a brand new feeling to her, the past months of her life were spent in pain, despair, darkness and loneliness. Excluding last night, the last rush of emotion she felt came from jumping off the castel wall with Theon.

This, she thought, was a much better way to live. Warm and comfortable in her own home, with a man who…she shook her head as she thought of Petyr, then of Littlefinger. How she could only trust half of her husband. She fell back onto the bed and let out a hefty sigh, not knowing what to do next. Her hands clawed at the furs around her, feeling their soft and lush layers, her memory flashed back to the night prior.

—

Her head was to the side, her mouth open, letting out silent, strained moans as Petyr kissed a trail down her body. He started with his lips tight around her nipples, sucking, flicking, swirling. Soon he moved south, biting and licking his way down her frame. She bit her bottom lip as he exhaled heavy, hot breaths through his nostrils as his tongue found this new nub of pure pleasure. Ramsay never cared to satisfy her, but Petyr was doing everything in his power to know she was pleased. 

He started off slow, taking his time to lap firm circles around her clit and over her lips, then used his fingers to gently press inside her. He planted his tongue flat against her and drank like a dog before using the point of his tongue to work away at her furiously and without cease until her legs were twisting around his back and her hands found her way to his hair. She pulled at his head and he let up, his eyes full of worry. She just cried out for him to not stop, that he shouldn’t stop, so he smiled, nodded, and got back to his work.

When she came for the second time it lasted a bit longer, sending shockwaves starting at her toes and spread up through her entire being, sending sweet vibrations of satisfaction that warmed her body, brain and heart.

Petyr kissed at her inner thighs as she loosened her grip at his hair. He looked up at her, a certain gleam in his eye she was getting accustomed to. He bit at the soft flesh of her legs, still pumping two fingers slowly inside of her. When her breaths became even again he moved his fingers upward inside of her, pressing against a new part of her body Sansa didn’t even know existed. The pressure inside her began to build again, this time even more quickly than the time before, and she was certain she was going to explode right there for him.

Her body was far too sensitive and she moved her hands to Petyr’s shoulders, asking him to stop. He shook his head in confusion but stopped anyway.

“Is it okay?” His voiced was soft as he placed his chin right at her navel, locking his hands with hers. She nodded as he took a few moments to gather her breath again. 

“I just need…” Her words were rushed and hard to hear in-between gasps for air.

“A moment?” He smiled and crawled up to her, placing his face in the crook of her neck to listen to her heavy panting. She could feel the tickle of his mustache on her skin and the fuzzy contact made her smile.

“What about…” Sansa’s eyes traveled down Petyr’s body, landing on a very prominent piece. Petyr raised his head to look at what she was gesturing towards and couldn’t help but let out a loud fit of laughter.

“What about it, sweetling?” He teased her with a few kisses along the side of her face, tracing along her ear lobe and hairline.

“Well,” She paused, thinking of her words carefully. She did not want to sound foolish, but perhaps it was too late. “Wouldn’t you like to…” Her words trailed off as she raised her eyebrows. Petyr smile and raised his eyebrows to match hers, pressing his body even closer to hers. 

“Well...” His tone was half-mocking but still sincere as he began to move her hand down their bodies until they reached his erection. She was hesitant, but as he guided her hand around him she could feel his body tense and she smiled at the realization of just how much control she had over him. “What do you think I want Sansa?” His eyes filled with nothing but dark desire as she tightened her grip and began to slowly move him up and down.

Petyr’s eyes closed as he let out a long rugged breath which was hot and moist against her neck, allowing the small hairs there to rise with tension. He felt good in her hand, solid yet moveable, and as his hips began to slide and grind into her body she figured she was doing a fine job.

“I should’ve known a man of your profession would be skilled at this.” She gave back the teasing with a whisper right against his ear, causing goosebumps to sprawl over his skin. His hands reached up to grab her face, pulling her towards him for a desperate kiss. His tongue glided in and out of her mouth and she could taste and smell herself on his breath, turning her on even further. She felt the surge of desire rush down her body once more and she urged him to touch her again.

He broke the kiss by pulling away from her, allowing her hand to slip off of him and fall to her side. She looked at him concerned, wondering what his next move was but he continued kissing her with fervor.

Petyr paused to admit his love again and she shook her head in agreement as he placed his body over hers. It was with that that he made swift action to enter her. Slowly at first, allowing her to adjust to the size and feel of him inside of her. Her first reaction was to tense up, push him off but he grabbed at her face, gently but nonetheless stern and locked eyes with her.

“It’s me, Sansa.” He reassured and she slightly nodded as he began to move inside her. He began with shallow, even thrusts, maintaining eye contact with her the entire time. With each thrust his eyes grew darker as low moans started to escape from his gritted teeth. Sansa grasped at the muscles his back, smooth and wet from sweat under her palms. She dug he fingernails into his skin and he paused.

“Am I hurting you?” He asked, a hint of worry in both his voice and expression. She shook her head and offered a slight smile, considerate of him to ask, she was half expecting it to be some sick joke, like the ones her dead spouse used to play on her. He nodded with her and began moving again, this time his movements a pace quicker.

She could feel her walls loosen around him, becoming more aroused with each stroke. She felt the well and buzz begin to grow and with each movement Petyr gasped and growled into her ear, pressing wet, sloppy kisses to her temple, cheek and neck. His hands roamed her body, grabbing at her breasts, kneading her taught nipples, then moved lower to her clit. His fingers pushed and pressed there, swirling around until she was crashing around him, calling out his name with a long draw of breath.

He was quick to follow, lasting not very long at all, but she was well past satisfied, something she had never known before from a lover. She had never truly known what a lover could be until just then.

Satisfaction felt good, she thought, and as she felt Petyr fill her with warmth and liquid he spilled out words of love, apologies and promises. His body fell to a heap next to hers, his breath hot and sticky on her reddened flesh, his fingers soft and motionless against her heart. She smiled as she he pulled her close with one arm, resting his face against her neck, taking in quick and generous whiffs of her natural scent. 

Sooner than later Sansa found the buzzing in her body turn in to a deep sedation, and the calling of sleep was soon washing over her, meanwhile her happy, warm and generous husband had already began dozing off.

She smiled as she stroked at his arm that lay protectively over her waist, and hoped every night would be just as satisfactory.

—

“You’re still in bed?” His words jolted Sansa to sit upright in her bed again, pulling the furs around to protect her naked body. When she saw him standing at the entrance of the room, hands clasped together and a small smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth, she relaxed.

Petyr shook his head ever so slightly and closed the door behind him. He walked over to the bed and sat beside her. She leaned in to kiss him.

“I see you found the lemon cake.” He said cooly, licking her off his lips and his hand reached up to play with a frizzy strand of her hair. She nodded and thanked him. “Get dressed.” He demanded and stood up, offering her his hand. She obeyed and stood, letting the furs from her body slip back down onto the mattress. 

Sansa smiled as she watched Petyr’s eyes roam her body. He licked his lips again, just ever-so-slightly and she swore she saw his entire body twitch. She enjoyed his reactions and walked over to the new gown which was spread out for her on the other side of the room. 

“For me?” She turned to look at him but his expression had fallen as she nodded. Her eyebrows raised with concern as she began putting on her small clothes. His lips formed a tight line as she began putting on the blue and gold gown, something reminiscent of what she would wear in King’s Landing. But no doubt it would look stunning with a grey fur, Petyr had wonderful taste, after all. 

“I received a raven today,” he began to speak and she turned to face him, her hands becoming tangled in the laces on the back of her dress. 

His eyes flickered and just like that she saw the mask of Littlefinger take hold. His shoulders squared and he straightened his stance, his hands clasping right at his belt, level with the dagger held tight there. 

“What did it say?” She asked, pushing away the anxious swell growing inside of her. She thought by now she would be used to receiving bad news. What else could happen to her, or to Jon? Had word spread of her marriage? Has it been ill received by the North? She contemplated for a moment and a rush of ideas hit her in a thick layer of concern. 

“News from King’s Landing.” Petyr's mouth curled with a smile. “We have a new queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Sansa’s eyes grew just as dark as his as the anxiety growing inside her burst into pure, unadulterated rage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MUCH APPRECIATED FEEDBACK from everyone for real, thank you. Also! Anyone wanna Beta me? Totally into that. Let me know here or on tumblr (@huzzah-frib) thx ;)


	7. I could spin you to hell

Petyr could feel the water lapping at his ankles, the blood dripping from his stomach on to his palms and into the cool running stream. He stepped further back, the water splashed up to meet his shaky knees and he called out her name. Over, and over he called, but his voice only echoed around him, muddled his head with false hope as no one ever came.

The river got deeper, swallowing up his waist as it turned a deep crimson from his blood. He felt the cool wash over him, soaking his clothes, and his boots, allowing the blood to seep right out of him and drain into the sea. Then, a figure appeared on shore. Dressed in all black, face cloaked by a large flowing hood, it creeped closer and closer.

Death, he reckoned, had finally arrived for him. But as the figure got closer, he saw a streak of red, a burst of blue, and flush of pink telling him he would be safe again. He reached his hand to hers, bloody and shivering, and she reciprocated, leaning over the rocks of the shore, bending down to grab him. 

“Sansa!” He tried to scream, but his mouth was filled with water. He pushed himself up above the current and spat the water out at her, gasping for breath as their hands grew closer. When their skin finally met, her fingers felt dry and cold, and when Petyr tried to look at her face, he only saw a lifeless, pale vision staring back at him. Behind her, he saw a hoard of white ravens soar into the sky and fly south. Then, the bird’s bodies caught fire, as if spontaneously combusting, and their ashy corpses hit the ground.

He tried to call out her name once again but the stream pushed harder, pulling him down with it. He lost the slippery grasp of his beloved’s fingers and drifted under the current, falling into complete darkness.

—

Petyr didn’t wake up with a huff of air or a shock from the visions his dreams granted him. Instead, he awoke as he always did . Slowly and steadily pushing what he had just seen out of his mind. Sure, history had shown dreams had been important to other, but to a self-made man from the Fingers, what more could it be?

Petyr rolled over and glanced at the sleeping figure next to him,. Hhis beautiful bride, with lips slightly parted, snoring lightly. He sat up and watched her for a moment, partially hypnotized by the rise and fall of her chest, her shaky exhales and the way her eyelids flickered from time to time. 

He wondered if maybe she was having the same dream. Perhaps in hers, she was fool enough to think she could save him. He slowly began to draw his slim fingers to her face, brushing hair away and twirling it between the pads of his thumb and forefinger.

The smile that crept across her face warmed his heart more than anything he had ever seen before, but he quickly shook it off as he rose from the bed and grabbed a robe on his way over to the window. He unlatched the hinge and slowly pulled, opening it with a loud creak. He turned to see if his actions disrupted his beauty’s sleep, but she only mumbled and turned, pulling all the furs with her. 

He turned back to the open frame and closed his eyes, letting the cool air of the winter morning wash over him. Images from the previous night flickered through his mind and he couldn’t help but allow his body to swell and rise with satisfaction. Of all the nights he’d known, the last was the best of his life. 

But then his eyes snapped open at the call of a raven, flying into the castle grounds. The cold breeze pushing against him suddenly became too much.The image from his dream rushed back into his mind - the crawling, grasping, and biting for air as their hands slipped further apart. For a split second he panicked, thinking perhaps his feelings for this girl were hazing his mind. The image of him on the Iron Throne, and her dashingly proud, smug smirk on soft, supple lips as he rose and the crowds cheered for the king and queen of the Seven Kingdoms. 

Foolish! It was the word he finally decided on as he closed the shutters.

Quickly getting dressed, he made his way to the rookery to see what messages the ravens had brought. It was a mixture of news, boring and plain, but two messages in particular struck him, causing hunger and pain to grow in the pit of his stomach.

 _Cersei torches KL, new queen, Qyburn hand. City in shambles._

The Mad Queen, he thought. Oh, how Jaime must be handling that one. He paused to think for a moment, stroking his chin, and pacing back and forth in the tower before remembering the other scroll. He peeled it open, biting into his bottom lip.

_Spider on the water, dragons, imp, iron, ships in tow. Heading to the mainland._

His little birds did well, he thought as he rolled up the paper and placed it in his sleeve. The news set blood pumping through his veins and he soon realized he was walking in circles. This was the thrill he lived for. Chaos and confusion were his life-force, and with an army on the way to King’s Landing, especially a fire-breathing one, perhaps getting rid of Queen Cersei would be easier than imagined.

—

“Dragons?!” Sansa nearly shrieked, her voice cracking with amusement. “You honestly believe dragons are on their way to King’s Landing?” She took a sip of wine to help acclimate to the thought. Petyr stood before her, a crooked smirk twisting his face, his eyebrow cocked. 

He nodded as Sansa glared down at the two notes placed before her. He had rarely shown his news to others. While he waited for her to speak, his chest began to swell with anticipation, and his hands shook with nerves. But the anxiety only thrilled him, filled him with some sort of hope that his plans may all fall into place. The girl was confused, smiling, laughing at the words.

“And Tyrion is with them?” She shook her head in disbelief. How did he escape it all? Next to Littlefinger, she thought, he must be the most clever man she ever met. 

Petyr nodded again and pulled out a chair across from her. He sat down, pushing himself closer while spreading out his legs so one was resting next to hers. He enjoyed sprawling out next to her, allowing his limbs to stretch and stroke against her. Marking his territory with his frame was just another perk of having a partner now. 

“What does a spider have to do with it - and iron?” She shook her head in disbelief, trying to decipher the messages like a child stumbling upon a riddle. She paused as she came to the realization, nearly choking out the words. “Theon!”

Petyr pursed his lips and pulled the piece of paper from her fingers. He looked it over again.

“There’s so much you don’t know, my love.” His eyes were lost in the written words and Sansa pushed the paper down with her hand to look at him.

“So then tell me.” Her voice was firm and full of confidence, and he nodded. She figured this was some sort of privilege to sit and have breakfast with Littlefinger as he discussed his plans of action, but he hardly spoke. Surely he was hiding something, she thought.

Sansa picked up the other piece of paper and unrolled it, squinting to see the words of the new Queen of Westeros. 

“How’d she do it?” Sansa’s words were quiet now, filled with a bitterness that Petyr understood all too well.

“Wild fire. Kept beneath the Keep for decades now.” He reached in to brush her hand with his. “Hundreds were killed.” Suddenly, Sansa’s eyes filled with tears. How could she be so foolish to forget?

“But what about,” Her voice cracked as a stream of tears pooled from her eyes. Petyr shook his head and grasped her hand.

“I know you were close with Queen Margaery whilst in King’s Landing. She was gentle and kind, but she was Cersei's enemy.”

“I can’t...” She closed her eyes and used her free hand to wipe away the tears. She didn’t like crying, especially in front of others, regardless of who they were. “And Tommen?”

Petyr let go of her hand and sat back in his chair.

“Jumped out of his bedroom window,” He paused and Sansa saw the Littlefinger mask take hold, “Fell fast to his death.” Sansa shook her head at how easily the words left his mouth. So calm and collected, like he the young boy's death wasn’t tragic at all. 

“These notes don’t say anything about this though. How do you know?” She shook her head as she glanced over the words again. Simple, short sentences was all she saw. Perhaps they were encoded some sort of way.

“I receive many ravens.” His statement was simple, and very matter of fact. Sansa nodded slowly and lowered her hand under the table, placing her palm on his knee.

“Then why haven’t I seen them?”

He shook his head and smiled at her touch, his mask starting to slip off.

“Holding onto such precious information would be foolish, wouldn’t it?” He took both of the small scrolls of paper off the table and slowly began to rise from his seat. Sansa gently clawed at his knee, urging him not to move. Their gaze met and both of their eyes became a blaze of pure want, but Petyr pushed through his urges to walk over to the fireplace.

He began to split the paper into smaller pieces, placing each in the roaring fire next to him. Sansa watched as each remanent reached the flames and burst into tiny embers of flame. When the two notes were finally destroyed, Petyr placed both of his hands behind his back and walked back over to Sansa.

Her eyes followed him as he confidently strode over to her. When they were but a foot apart, he raised one of his hands to her chin, placing a finger under it, lifting her head up to look directly at him.

“But what would my wife like to know?” He inquired, his body beaming with heat that was purely intended for her.

Sansa paused for a moment before rising from her seat, allowing Petyr to place his hand behind his back again. She took a step closer to him and leaned down slightly to meet his ear.

“Everything,” she stated and walked past him.

—

They made their way down the corridors and into a small room set up strictly for war council. Sansa became instantly annoyed, realizing Jon never even set up such a room before his departure, and the task had fallen to her. The walls were heavy with Stark banners, and in the middle of the room was a large round table with a thick, detailed map of Westeros. 

Atop the map were carved figures of stone representing each major house, all strategically placed to where they ruled. Sansa’s mind flashed back to the nights leading to the battle for Winterfell, and her blood boiled thinking of how Jon ignored her ideas and pressed on through the meeting as if he had all the answers.

Her mind snapped back to the present when she felt Petyr’s hand reach for hers and lead her closer to the table. He stopped her at one side then walked over to the other, licking his lips as he leaned down, resting his palms flat against the table. 

“Look, my love,” his fingers traced over the map, landing on a prominent stonepiece that stood upon Winterfell. He looked up at her then motioned with his eyes as his hands moved throughout the North, over the houses of the Vale and then back again. “All of this is yours,” he said proudly and she found his tone endearing.

“But we need more,.” she said cooll, her eyes flickered south, and her heart beat faster as she began to think about Cersei taking on the role of queen.

“We do, sweetling,.” he smiled and stood up, quirking his eyebrow at her, “But what is next?” Her hand moved over the map and landed on the lions head sitting atop King’s Landing.

“I want Cersei dead,.” she said matter-of-factly, Her eyes burned right into Petyr’s as they flickered with anger. He nodded and walked around the perimeter of the table.

“A right thing to want, but foolish.” He paused and spread his hands, waving them over the map. “To rule all of this, we will need Cersei dead,.” he smiled at her, “But that will happen soon enough.”

“What have you done?” She shook her head slightly amused at what plans may already be in motion.

“Me?” He let out a light chuckle. “Nothing, my dear. I don’t have to do anything.” 

“What do you mean?” She was became irritated with his riddles as he began to slowly walk over to her.

“With Tommen dead, Jaime and Cersei are all that remains of the true Lannister house,” he paused to look down at the lion., “Surely, cousins and uncles, but even Kevan perished in the wild-fire. What’s left of their family is a one-handed knight who can’t fight and a mad queen.” 

Sansa nodded and waited for him to continue. 

“If the little songs I hear are true, which they usually are, House Lannister won’t be around much longer.”

“The people of King’s Landing love Cersei. They’ll follow her no matter-“

“Ah,” he interrupted her by raising his hand,. “Maybe before she set their city ablaze, but now, the ashy remains will serve as a reminder for the citizens of King’s Landing.” 

Sansa nodded, her eyes following Petyr as he circled the table. He moved to stand behind her and paused, then leaned up against her. 

“Look again, my love. What house should be yours as well?” 

Her eyes darted over the map for a moment before she noticed the large fish jumping out of water.

“The Riverlands,” she said cooly as Petyr placed a kiss on her cheek.

“Exactly.”

“But my uncle-“ she began, turning to look at him, eyes wide with concern.

“Edmure is weak. He surrendered to the Lannisters! Do you really want to make good with a dying family who have never come to your aid?” His lips curled into a tight smirk as he he placed one hand on her face, rubbing her cheek softly with his thumb. She shook her head as her eyes dropped to the ground.

“The Blackfish?” She asked, her voice even as she met his eyes again. Petyr nodded and took a step back from her, moving closer to the table. 

“Abandoned you in your time of need. Lady Brienne couldn’t even persuade him.” He placed his hand on the fish and picked it up. “Last I heard he was killed by the Lannisters. Even so, he is our enemy.”

“But,” she paused and clasped her hands together, her eyes focused on the fish in Petyr’s hand, “They’re family.” She spoke slowly, as if saying it would make the words matter more. 

“I know.” His face dropped to a solemn expression as he ran his thumb over the fish. Her eyes were drawn to it and she wished his fingers were on her again. “The Tully family means a great deal to me too, Sansa. But they betrayed you. Abandoned you. How can we call them allies now?”

“But can we defeat them and the Lannisters?” She shook her head. The thought of more battles caused a knot to twist in her stomach. 

“Jaime has other things to worry about, and soon their presence at Riverrun will dissipate, and then,” he paused and handed her the fish, “Our army will beat their army, and Riverrun will be yours.” He smiled as her eyes moved from the piece to his eyes that, burned with lust.

She leaned in and kissed him, pushing him back against the table until he hit its edge. The pieces on the map shook as his frame fcollided with the hard wood. He pulled back to look at her. His face held a devious grin, but he said nothing. She motioned to the table while licking her lips, and he quickly began to swipe the various pieces away.

The house markers fell with loud clacks against the stone floor as Sansa pressed her body closer to Petyr’s. She could feel him tense and surge with desire as he tpushed himself onto the table and motioned for her to join. She took a moment to to hike up her dress before climbing onto the table to straddle him.

He pulled her close, tangling his hands in her hair then kissed her again. A fierce movement with his tongue caused her to moan against him. His hands began to move from her hair down her frame and he quickly released his growing erection from his pants as she parted her underclothes so he could gain access. 

She took a deep breath as she slowly descended upon him, and his length filled her, and placed both hands on his chest to balance herself. She let out a few heavy breaths and clawed at the material of his doublet as she adjusted to the feeling. He moved his hands to her hips and pulled her closer.

They were both panting as Petyr began to move under her, but she shook her head and he ceased. His eyes widened with confusion, but after a brief moment Sansa began rocking her hips, grinding against him. He let out a long exasperated moan and Sansa let her head fall back as the sensation began to grow with each motion. 

She opened her eyes to find Petyr’s twisted shut, his breaths ragged and long. She moved her hand up to his face and placed her hand around his throat. It was different, but she kept a loose grip on it as his eyes snapped back open. He seemed to enjoy it, his eyes pooled with desire, and he could feel he was rapidly approaching his end.

“I want all of this.” She motioned to the map underneath them with her eyes as she began to move faster, grinding closer to him. He couldn’t speak, just shook his head as he gritted his teeth, a few foreceful pants escaping his lips. “And you’re going to give it to me,”  
Sansa finished.

She pressed further onto him, a burning began in her core and she let out a small cry as the feeling of release crashed around her. Sansa dropped her hand from his throat and tried to catch her breath while Petyr let out a heavy moan as he quickly found his own end. She enjoyed the way his body shook under her, feeling the extent of warm liquid fill her. She felt his entire body become soft under hers and she felt like she could trap him like this forever. He’d have nowhere to go, and all the while they both would enjoy it immensely.

He sat up between heavy breaths to kiss her blushed cheek. His breath was hot against her ear as he nipped at it gently. 

“Everything will be yours.” He paused to kiss her on the lips and then looked her in the eyes. “This promise I will never break.”

She nodded as his words filled her heart to the brim, knowing that even if he could not give it her, she would surely take it herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. My life has been hectic and SO MUCH THANKS AND APPRECIATION to my new lovely beta, Autumn. You have improved my writing! (Can I tag people here?) You rock.


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